


Happy Birthday, Ezra Bridger

by Loth-Cat (Starbird)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: (If "Resolved UST" is?), (Why is that not a tag?), Atollon, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Romance, But I'm tryna keep things light, Chopper's a Troll, Denial of Feelings, Ezra Likes to Read, Ezra is Flustered, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, I should thank you guys more, My Work Now With Only a Hint of Angst!, Oh No He's Hot, Resolved Romantic Tension, Speaking of..., THANKS TAG WRANGLERS!!! :) :) <3, bit of alcohol, this is a little cheesy, very light angst, we appreciate you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22362691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starbird/pseuds/Loth-Cat
Summary: Sabine throws a surprise birthday party for Ezra. Along the way, she battles multiple obstacles, such as the base’s bubbly Social Committee, feelings she is definitely not feeling, and Chopper’s determination to absolutely wreck the entire thing. Set very late in S3.
Relationships: Ezra Bridger/Sabine Wren, Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Comments: 75
Kudos: 167





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Drabbles of Sabine Wren](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8714833) by [Ciryc_Tal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ciryc_Tal/pseuds/Ciryc_Tal), [foxsykitsune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxsykitsune/pseuds/foxsykitsune). 



> So if you've read my [Sabezra Ficlets](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21955801/chapters/52395013), you'll notice they were inspired by "Drabbles of Sabine Wren" by Ciryc_Tal and foxsykitsune. This was the main work inspired by that work, actually, and all was good and well...until this work became so long that it had to be its own piece. So now I have two separate works inspired by the same work. Haha. Hope the authors don't mind! :) ❤ The stories perfectly combine fun, humor, fluff, and I wanted to tell that kind of story, too (since mostly I do Srs Stuff). So, here we are. A "flexy" (fluffy + sexy) piece that is a little cheesy but 95% angst-free. 
> 
> The title, of course, is a reference to the moment in season 1 when Sabine cleans up the datacard from Ezra's home and finds the picture of him with his parents on it. The idea came from an image I randomly got in my mind of Sabine and Ezra in a kitchen with her looking at a bag of flour. Yeah, Idk why, either, but this 10k (supposed to be 3k) fic is the result of it. 
> 
> Thank you, as usual/always, to my pal @aluckydenvermint for providing some tweaking on the idea for this. ❤❤❤😘

Setting her tray down with a clatter that seemed loud in the nearly empty mess hall on Chopper Base, Sabine took a seat next to Hera and glanced around at the other members of the _Ghost_ crew. Kanan determinedly slogged through some mush on autopilot while Zeb just focused on drinking a large cup of caf, arms crossed. Hera did the same as she studied a datapad. Chopper wasn’t around, but he wouldn’t be. He avoided human interaction as much as possible, and he was probably off with AP-5 harassing him. Were any of them going to mention it?

“Where’s Ezra?” Sabine asked, glancing over her bland breakfast. It was no surprise many Rebels chose to skip the first meal of the day, preferring instead to either go hungry or sleep in.

“Probably sleeping,” Zeb said. “Lazy kid. Went to bed late and now he can’t get out of bed.”

“He was up reading,” Hera said. “Cut him some slack.”

Zeb rolled his eyes. “I’ll cut him some slack when he starts pulling his weight around here and stops leaving his junk all over my bunk.”

“You should write a poem about that,” Sabine commented, spooning some of the mush into her mouth. “‘Junk on My Bunk: An Ode to My Awful Roommate.’” She reached for the salt. _Anything_ to make this stuff taste better.

“You know, I just might.”

Sabine smiled, and she caught Kanan and Hera smiling as well.

“It’s been three years,” Zeb whined. “Isn’t it time we gave him up? Returned him? I miss having my own cabin. Ezra’s _loud_.”

“Ezra is not a purchase,” Hera said. “He is a valuable member of this crew. We can’t just drop him back on Lothal and get a refund.”

“But he’s _moody_! And he takes all the blankets!”

“It’s not like you’re sharing a bunk,” Hera said. “It’s just a room.”

“A _small_ room.”

Hera took a swig of her black caf and said nothing.

“How can you still drink that stuff?” Kanan asked, crossing his arms. “You’re going to rot a hole in your stomach and dissolve your teeth.”

“Kanan,” she replied patiently, “I’ve been drinking my caf black for over six years.”

“But it’s not _good_ for you. The Two-Onebee said – ”

“Dear, if you don’t like the way I drink my caf, you can find yourself another ride.”

“She’s right, Kanan,” Zeb said.

“Maybe I will,” Kanan returned tartly.

Sabine shook her head to herself in amusement and continued to listen to them bicker. They were not, it seemed, going to mention it after all.

\---

Immediately afterward, Sabine had a meeting. It was something she’d had to endure while here on Atollon, and she’d kept it secret and suffered through it for as long as she’d been planning this idea. Luckily, as a member of a crew that was frequently off-base, she didn’t have to attend many of these monthly meetings (and she mostly made herself scarce and skipped the other ones even when she was), but this particular one was special.

She’d been the one to call it.

“Sabine!” Raya exclaimed when she walked in the room. Sabine winced when the blond-haired Army lieutenant grabbed her in an armor-crushing hug. “You made it.”

“I called the meeting,” Sabine pointed out. She took the seat closest to the door for an easy exit. “Let’s get started.”

“Wait, first we have to take minutes,” said a brunette private from the Navy named Turry. She and Raya had started the committee.

Sabine waved her off. “No, no time for that. This is just a quick meeting because I want to do something for a member of my crew, and I need your help.”

Raya frowned. She hadn’t taken a seat yet and stood in the middle of the circle like a queen commanding her subjects. “This is awful short notice.”

“I gave you notice of the meeting two weeks ago, as per the bylaws. My crew does missions on literally a moment’s notice.”

“This isn’t a mission, Sabine. It’s a party you’re wanting. And you gave us notice of the _meeting_ , not the _party_. Which you want _tonight_.”

Sabine rolled her eyes and opened her hands. “Yes, I understand. Surely you can get some half-decent gathering together for tonight. Say, twenty-one or twenty-one-thirty?”

“Number of guests?” asked Corporal Bennett gruffly. She was a woman from Spec Ops who had short, dark hair, and was not prone to time-wasting.

Sabine shrugged. “I don’t know, whoever wants to come?”

“Wait, wait,” Raya said, holding out her thin arms. Even in Army fatigues, she looked good. Of course, she’d rolled the sleeves up past her elbows and found a way to cinch the uniform tight at her waist, plus her long blond waves spilled out from under her cap that sat at an angle on her head, so that helped. “We have not yet established a purpose for this party.”

Sabine drew in a breath; hesitated. “It’s…” she started. “It’s Empire Day on Lothal.”

The explanation didn’t offer much, and Raya’s eyes narrowed. “So? Why are we celebrating _that_?”

“Well, this would be an _anti_ -Empire Day party,” Sabine said, and hesitated just a little bit more. “It…is also my crewmate’s birthday,” she finished, a little lamely, if she had to be honest. “That’s the real reason.”

Raya put the backs of her wrists on her hips, looking much like Chopper when he did the same thing. Sabine raised her eyebrows in an effort to still the laughter in her throat. The lieutenant did take the wrong things a bit too seriously.

“Which one?” she said. Sabine turned her palms up.

“Would your answer change if you knew who it was?”

Raya’s mouth moved just the smallest bit, as if she were about to say that yes, maybe it would, but knew that was the wrong answer. “No, of course not,” she said. “Unless it’s the droid’s.”

Sabine leaned back in her seat and crossed arms and legs. “Chopper’s a member of the family just like any other. But we don’t celebrate the day he was made. We don’t even know when it was.”

Raya shook her head, as if this was all just simply too much to ask. “Sabine, I don’t know. This really is last-minute notice.”

“It’s a surprise party. It _needed_ to be as last-minute as possible.”

“What, you think we’re all a bunch of chatty Chadra-Fans here? That we can’t keep secrets? Monette is Intelligence, you know, and she – ”

Monette. That was the name of the quiet, dark-skinned woman over in the corner waving Raya off. Sabine had never bothered to learn her name, because they were rarely on-base at the same time.

“Just let her continue, Raya,” Monette said. “Also, speciesist.”

Raya rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Wasn’t meant as an insult.”

“Wouldn’t hurt to have a little diversity around here, you know – ”

“Look, I reminded Misshka of the meeting, but she’s bristly.”

“So now Trandoshans are bristly. Why don’t you just go ahead and say they’re _prickly_ because they have scales?”

Sabine stood up quickly, causing her chair to scrape back. Her hands had balled into fists. This was exactly why she didn’t hang out with other girls. “Party,” she said. “Tonight. Twenty-one hundred. The big briefing room. Figure out drinks and food. And music if you want. I don’t care. Invite whoever you want, and tell them it’s an anti-Empire Day party. _But don’t you dare spill about it being for my crewmate’s birthday._ ”

With a threatening glare, she turned and keyed the door.

“Wait,” Raya called. “You want us to do all this work. What are _you_ contributing?”

“I’ll attempt to bake a Mandalorian celebration cake without burning down the base.”

“It’s going to have _razors_ in it,” someone murmured to another.

“Bye, Sabine!” called Monette cheerily from behind her. Sabine smiled as she left. Monette might be a good ally to have sometime.

\---

When Sabine returned to the _Ghost_ , all was quiet. She listened for a few moments, but heard nothing. Ezra, apparently, was still sleeping, and Sabine crept to his and Zeb’s cabin. It opened silently, to reveal him completely passed out on his bunk, covers pulled all the way up except for part of his arm dangling out over the side. Her original plan was to scare him awake, but for a moment, she considered doing something more abjectly humiliating, like painting his nails. With a devilish smile at the thought of his horror, she shook her head to rid it to the back of her mind for later.

He should know better than to sleep in with his door unlocked.

The cabins weren’t all that big, so it only took a few silent steps before she was in front of him. Grinning now, imagining him going berserk at being startled awake, she splayed her hand as far as she could and lowered it to the covers.

“Morning, starshine!” she yelled as she gave his midsection a fierce tickle.

Ezra woke with a loud and particularly violent gasp, the hand under the covers coming out to grab hers with reflexes only a Jedi had. His fingers closed around her wrist, but it did no good – the action carried his weight over the side of the bunk, and Sabine stumbled back as he tumbled down. She caught his (substantial, and surprising) weight and went down with him. They landed with her on her back and his hands to either side of her shoulders supporting his weight as he pinned her.

“You,” she grunted, “suck.”

Ezra reached up to wipe sleep from his eyes, leaving one hand on the floor at Sabine’s side, and some of his weight shifted off her. “Have you ever heard the story about not waking the sleeping loth-bear?” he mumbled.

“No. I’m not Lothalian. Why would I?”

“Don’t wake the sleeping loth-bear.”

“And you’re the loth-bear.”

“I’m the loth-bear,” he replied, the words hardly intelligible. He dug the heel of his hand into his eye. “Why’dju wake me?”

“Because it’s past oh-nine-hundred. Thought you might want to start, y’know, contributing to the insurrection, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Ezra yawned and didn’t reply, his gaze over her head and him seemingly still unaware that he was awake, which was when Sabine noticed two things: first, he hadn’t moved off her, and second, he was shirtless.

Which led to a third thing: he’d changed since she’d last seen him without a shirt.

Not that she went around looking for it – she tried to avoid stumbling upon _any_ of the crewmembers sans proper coverings – but last time, he hadn’t filled out yet, hadn’t developed any of these smooth curves.

She was surprised. And she was staring.

Rousing herself back to the present before her mind could wander, she smacked his shoulder with the flat of her hand and demanded irritably, “Get off.”

Ezra looked at her, locked eyes with her for a second that was way, _way_ too long, and then complied, rolling off to the side onto his back and rubbing his eyes again. He lay with his knees bent up, pajama pants a good few centimeters above his ankles. He really _had_ grown. Sabine’s eyes swept him again all on their own without her permission, and they caught on the line of dark hair from his navel traveling down, down to the waistband of his pants, to disappear tantalizingly below. Blinking hard, Sabine pulled her gaze away.

“Did you bring me food?” Ezra asked, his innate ability to say something stupid and ruin a moment thoroughly cooling any heat she had felt.

“No. What are you, a house pet?” Noticing his shirt on the shelf lining the right side of the cabin, she stood, grabbed it, and then dropped it on his face. “Let’s go.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *insert joke about things heating up in the kitchen*

Ezra had managed to disappear by the time Sabine was ready to bake the Mandalorian celebration cake for his party. Not being the domestic type, she’d also intended on roping him into it. Yes, she had planned this party for him, but she also wanted to make him work for it.

A thorough search of the base found him in the gym finishing up his workout. Usually he exercised in the morning, but Sabine wondered if his routine was different today because he was trying to keep his mind off of Empire Day. She crossed her arms and leaned against a stack of old mats, watching as he finished up reps of crunches, alternating between abdominals and obliques. A handful of other rebels were scattered around the gym doing their own workouts, and he was off by himself as well. Given how hard he was breathing, he must’ve been near the very end of the workout, so Sabine approached him. His head was to her, but she knew there was little chance she’d surprise him. As she walked up, her vision snagged on a bead of sweat trickling down his stomach to his side, and she wondered, again…when had _this_ happened? She reflected back on the scrawny boy she’d accidentally seen coming out of the refresher one day early on, who’d scrambled away to his cabin when he’d realized she’d seen him. In his place was this… _man_ , apparently…with defined muscles, more pronounced facial features, and –

“Almost done,” he grunted out as he bent up. “What you want?”

“Uh,” Sabine quickly replied, ripping her thoughts away and feeling herself color. She’d never been fascinated before by watching his muscles work; they were the same as anyone else’s, after all. “Need your help. In the kitchen.”

“Blech, why?”

“Just hurry up.”

“Sure.” He sat up for good, took a few deep breaths, and turned over to do push-ups. “Let me finish these up.”

“Okay.” She turned to go –

“I’m almost done.”

Scowling, Sabine turned back, but she didn’t watch him. She watched anything _but_ him. One of the most handsome fighter pilots was working out as well, clearly showing off for a couple of the Army girls in the corner who were acting like they were working with resistance bands, but were really just giggling like schoolgirls while the pilot pretended he didn’t notice. A smile grew on Sabine’s face.

“Goodness,” she said in a breathy voice. “Are those girls _staring_?”

“What?!” Ezra immediately lost his rhythm and dropped to the mat with a loud _thump_ that reverberated around the room. The girls looked over and, seeing him flat on his face, chuckled at his misfortune.

“Nice one, Bridger!” called the pilot.

“You know where to shove it, Andros,” Ezra called back. Sabine quirked a smile and put her hand out. “You’re a jerk,” he muttered, rubbing his sore chin with one hand and taking hers with the other.

“You’re easy prey,” she said, hauling him to his feet. “You would think your reputation would precede you. Last of the Jedi, part of the _Ghost_ crew… How do you not have a queue lining up outside your door every night?”

“I know, I’m such a catch,” he said. He ran his hand through his sweaty hair, causing a drop to land on Sabine’s hand. She made a face and quickly rubbed it off on her pant leg. “Plus I’m an orphan. Surely that has to count for something.”

“Less than you think in the Rebellion.”

“True.”

She wished he’d put a shirt on. “Get cleaned up,” she said. “And come find me.”

**\---**

“Tell me again what we’re doing?” Ezra asked as they headed through the base to the kitchen. “I’m still not clear on the details.”

“I’m a nice person,” Sabine said. “And I organized an anti-Empire Day party for you.”

“You’re a nice… See, that’s where you lost me.” He ducked the fist she swung at his head. “Really, you’re going to _make_ something? The most I’ve ever seen you do in the kitchen is rehydrate bread.”

“Yeah?” Sabine replied with an arched brow. “And you’re so good yourself?”

Ezra gave her a cocky grin. “I’m good at everything.”

Sabine frowned, affecting a look of scrutiny. “What’s that on your jacket?” she asked, tapping her finger against his chest. He took the bait and looked down. She flicked her fingers up to hit him on the underside of the nose. “Gullibility is generally not seen as a _strength_.”

Ezra growled and rubbed his nose. “Forgive me if I don’t see you as the baking type.”

“There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” Sabine returned as she breezed through the kitchen door.

“I know,” he said quietly.

Her comment was meant as a teasing repartee, but his response indicated it struck a little deep. She did hold things back – a lot – and even though they’d become good friends over the past year, she still held back and kept him at a distance – as she’d always done with people.

“Well, I’m not all that interesting anyway,” she said to cover the awkward moment as she pulled out her datapad and brought up the recipe she’d found.

“I think you are.”

Sabine rolled her eyes. “Yes, Ezra, I know.”

He snorted good-naturedly.

“Okay,” she said as she finished reading through the recipe. “This doesn’t look that complicated. We might have to figure out some substitutions, but…” She glanced around the makeshift kitchen. None of the cabinets were labeled. “Any idea where we find anything around here?”

“You think _I_ know?” Ezra replied as he started opening doors.

Sabine shrugged. “Knowing your history of raiding the _Ghost_ ’s galley at all hours, and the magical, mystical Force you live with, I thought it was not too far outside the realm of possibility that you either a. knew where everything was or b. _could sense it_ ,” she finished in a low voice. Ezra looked over at her with a frown, which she returned with a smirk. He could be touchy about the Jedi thing sometimes.

“What’s the first ingredient?” he asked.

“Flour. Then sugar, some spices…we’re sure not going to get that one around here…or that one…” Sabine scanned down the list again. “Eggs.”

“Wait, I might be able to…”

Sabine turned around to find him with closed eyes and a hand held out, like she’d seen him and Kanan do countless times when they were reaching out with the Force. She watched with narrowing eyes as he walked to the cooler and opened the door. Shaking her head, she turned back around and continued searching for the flour.

Sabine sensed his attack not even a second before he did it. The neck of her bodysuit opened up briefly before a cube of ice slid down her bare back. She gasped at the sensation and dropped the datapad on the countertop so she could reach around behind herself for the ice. Unfortunately, it was stuck inside her bodysuit, and without completely stripping, she couldn’t get it out. She’d just have to wait for it to melt. It reached the small of her back and she arched away from it, then turned back to Ezra with a glare.

“That’s for making fun of me!” he said before proceeding to laugh at her discomfort. Sabine growled, but she recognized when she had lost.

“Fine,” she muttered. “I apologize for bruising your fragile little wizard ego.” She opened up another cabinet and found the stacks of flour in bags. Unfortunately, she needed a specific type, and it was located on the very top shelf – way beyond her reach. “Help me get that, will you?” she asked, pointing to it.

Ezra affected a thoughtful expression. “I could…or I could let you try to get it yourself.”

“You know, it wasn’t that long ago that I was taller than you. This stupid cake is for _your_ party that _I_ arranged.”

“Fine, fine,” he said, and before she had a chance to prepare herself, he grabbed her from behind, arms wrapped below her hips, and lifted her up. “Ugh, your back is cold. Can you reach it?”

“Then get your face out of it, and yes, I can.” Sabine grabbed the small bag, ignoring just _where_ exactly his arms were and how they pressed into her hips, and he lowered her back down to the floor. The raw strength of him surprised her. He’d picked her up like she weighed literally nothing. “You could have just used the Force for that, you know.”

He shrugged. “I’m saving it up for when it actually matters.”

“What, like you have to recharge or something?” She opened up the bag and peered inside. “Should be enough. Now to see if I can read these instructions. The translation is terrible.”

She hopped up on the counter and studied the writing. The Basic was awful, so she tried the Rodian. Before she was even aware it was happening, Ezra had stepped into her personal space, way closer than she usually allowed people (but for some reason, always allowed him), and was looking at the bag, too. He was between her legs, pressed close, looking at the letters upside down. His reading skills were a lot better than they used to be, but trying to read Rodian upside down wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He was just trying to help, but…he was _awfully_ close.

“Here, why don’t you try?” Sabine suggested, shoving the bag at him. He took it, eyes moving across the words, and she watched him for a moment, doing her best to blank her thoughts in case he might pick up on them. He hadn’t moved away from her. He was – probably unconsciously – leaning into her, but she was sitting on the very edge of the counter, and his body was literally pressed all the way against hers. Focusing intently on the foreign language, brow scrunched together and mouth turned down as he concentrated, he obviously had absolutely no idea what he was doing or where _exactly_ he was pressing. His body was all lean hardness against hers, not at all what she was used to from him. It was like she hadn’t even noticed it, even in their sparring over the last year. Malachor had really been the defining moment, but so much of what had happened after it had been _bad_ changes, that she’d not even noticed the good. Somehow, Ezra Bridger had turned from a boy into a man, and Sabine had been oblivious.

Not that she’d _wanted_ to see, necessarily. To her, in a lot of ways, he’d always been and maybe always would be a boy.

It should have been awkward, there in the kitchen. It really should have been. This was literally the first time they’d ever been in a position like this, even with some of their tighter spots in battle. But instead, Sabine found herself wanting to reach out and touch his hip, maybe bring him even closer. She scolded herself and bit her tongue, forcing some pain into her body to bring herself back to reality. She got like this every so often, she remembered. Lonely, touch-starved, wanting more than just a hug from Kanan or Hera. Ezra was the logical choice, of course. Didn’t mean she had any feelings for the guy. Of course.

“I can’t make a loth-cat’s rear or nose from it,” Ezra said into her musings, once again taking the heat from her cheeks and dissipating it instantly. He could be such…such…such a _boy_.

“Give me that.” Sabine snatched the bag of flour back and studied it again, frowning hard.

“Oh, you said you needed salt,” he said. “I saw some up here.”

“You’re salty,” Sabine muttered, the words blurring before her. Kriff, she couldn’t _think_.

Ezra reached above her, brushing her face with his jacket sleeve and filling her nose with his familiar scent. It was something she found comforting these days, much as that surprised her. She’d joked about it their first year together, but now he smelled less street and more… She couldn’t think of the right word. Well taken care of. Mature. _Like home._

Not liking _that_ thought one bit, Sabine readjusted on the counter, the hard surface causing her some soreness. She accidentally bumped him – a little too close, a little too personal – and he all but jumped back. _Now_ he’d realized their position.

“What else do you need?” he asked quickly, voice tight. Sabine couldn’t help the small smile that came to her face. While she’d never encouraged his infatuation with her, it was flattering in its own way, and sometimes, it was just nice to know she still got to him – especially as they matured and grew up, and she got to him in such clearly…mature ways.

“Just a couple more things,” she said, “and then we’ll be done.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party night, despite Chopper’s best efforts.

“Sabine, it’s Raya. Why did you cancel the party?”

Sabine frowned, the comlink held up to her mouth as she tried to figure out what was going on. “Excuse me?”

“Your droid commed me. Chop-Fur? He said the party was off because you were having some problems.”

Sabine’s brows quickly came together, and anger sparked inside her. This was _so_ like Chopper. “Did he, now? What kind of _problems_?”

“Female problems.”

“Oh, for kriff’s…” Sabine put her hand to her forehead, closing her eyes and counting to five. _So like Chopper._ “No, I didn’t tell him to do that. Don’t believe a word he says.”

“Oh,” Raya said. She sounded confused. “Okay…”

Sabine disconnected and counted to five again.

\---

The one thing Sabine _hadn’t_ anticipated – besides Chopper’s meddling – was Ezra’s reluctance to attend the party.

“I dunno,” he said, lying on his back in his bunk reading on his datapad. “It’s kind of late.”

 _“Kind of late?”_ Sabine repeated. “Ezra, it’s not even twenty-one hundred.”

“I know, but…parties aren’t really my thing, Sabine. I’m not really the party type.”

She rolled her eyes and took her fists from her hips so she could cross her arms. “Yeah. I know. You’re not exactly _fun_ at parties.”

At this, Ezra frowned. “I resent that. I’m a ton of fun.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, last of the Jedi and all. _So much fun._ Not at _all_ serious.”

“I’m not too serious.”

“Ezra, you have two modes: you are either too serious, or you act like a five-year-old. I hate to be the one to ask, but will the five-year-old come out to play tonight?”

Ezra rolled his eyes right back and returned to his book. “Well, with a request like _that_ …”

Sabine dropped the teasing. “C’mon, Ezra, seriously. I planned this _just_ for you.”

His eyes lifted from the screen, and he was silent a moment. “You did?”

“ _Yes,_ you _di’kut_. Who _else_ did you think I organized an _anti-Empire Day party_ for?”

Ezra switched off the reader and jumped down off his bunk. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be ungrateful.”

Sabine cuffed him on the back of the head. “That’s more like it. Now let’s go.”

\---

“Sabine? It’s Raya again.”

“Hang on, I have to take this,” Sabine said to Ezra, and stepped away to somewhere private. “What’s up?” she replied quietly to Raya.

“Heard from Chop-Fur again. I know you said he was lying, and he called to apologize and say he got things mixed up.”

“That is one of the many ways you know he’s lying. Chop _never_ apologizes.”

“I know it’s in five minutes, but we have to cancel the party. He said that Bridger’s not allowed to attend.”

Once again, Sabine frowned. “And why not…?”

“He said Bridger gets really rowdy when he’s drunk and was issued a ban on Lothal for parties, that he got blacklisted from a bunch of places – ”

Sabine disconnected immediately and stuffed the comlink away.

\---

Raya was standing by with her comlink so that as soon as Sabine sent a signal, Raya knew to get the party-goers ready. As soon as Sabine and Ezra walked through the doors of the conference room, Raya flipped on the lights, and most of the gathered sentients remembered to shout, “Happy Birthday, Ezra!” A few failed, with a “Happy Birthday, Tim!” and the like, to which Raya sent icy glares. Ezra fell back a step at the greeting, a blush coming to his cheeks. Sabine watched as he swallowed and quickly surveyed the room. Raya, for all her irritating punctiliousness, had come through on that end, gathering together an array of food and nonalcoholic beverages on the center table. In a corner, however, a small side table sagged under the weight of multiple kegs and a large variety of hard liquor gotten under no doubt less-than-legitimate means. An Army private around Sabine’s age named Prento was edging around the walls of the room, hanging up rude signs about all the things humans could do legally on most worlds when they turned eighteen.

“Thank you, guys,” Ezra said. “Wow. Really.” Prento loudly ripped off a piece of tape and slapped a sign up. Ezra caught sight of it, read it, and frowned. “Wow,” he said again. “Didn’t know _that_ was legal.”

Raya looked over, widened her eyes, and dashed over to the sign. “Thank you, Private,” she said politely. “But that won’t be necessary. I’m sure Bridger is aware of all his rights now that he’s eighteen.”

“I actually wasn’t aware of that one,” Ezra said.

“Don’t think you’ll ever need to be,” Sabine said, grabbing his arm and steering him toward the food table. “Here. Try my cake.”

Monette from Intelligence snorted and elbowed Sabine, who glared at her. “You got a problem with something I _said_?” Sabine snapped.

“Nope,” Monette said, already halfway through a red cup of what smelled like almost straight liquor. “But maybe you do.”

Sabine hissed at her and turned back to the table. “ _Anyway,_ it seems to have turned out okay.” She grabbed a knife to begin cutting it, but she could sense that Ezra wasn’t paying attention to it. Instead, his full attention was on her. Years of working with him, being his friend, not to mention Mandalorian training, had taught her how to be aware of others. She didn’t need the Force for that. Mostly, though…it was because she knew him so well, that she knew he wasn’t paying attention to what she was doing, but to her. Still, she continued her task, putting a small piece of the cake onto a plate, getting some of the thin frosting onto her thumb and fingertip. When she looked up at Ezra again, her finger in her mouth to lick the frosting off, his eyes were on her.

“Thank you,” he said again, eyes darting to her mouth for a split-second before going up to her own eyes again. _Force_ , he was on a hair-trigger. “I didn’t know you did _all_ this for me.”

“Of course not,” Sabine said, reaching down to grab a napkin to wipe her thumb. Best not to clean it off in her mouth, or he might explode. “It was a _surprise party_.”

He twitched a little, like maybe he wanted to hug her, and she leaned back ever so slightly. He didn’t need to make things weird. She was just being nice. Things were starting to get rowdy around them, so she raised her voice.

“I just thought…since you were turning eighteen…you might want something nice. Your birthday being on Empire Day and all.”

Someone finally got the music going, and it blared out, way, way too loud, from the speakers, and another person shouted in joy as he triumphantly broke open two bottles of dusty, old, cheap liquor that probably tasted like rubbing alcohol (and possibly was. Who knew?).

“Yeah, I can do that now,” Ezra said, pointing at the sign that had been ripped down. Sabine pushed his hand down.

“Don’t think about that,” she said with a quick shake of her head. “Don’t.”

It took Sabine pressing a mixed drink into Ezra’s hand for him to loosen up a bit, and after a while, he was able to relax more. It was rare that they saw anyone they knew on base for an extended period of time, and they were both able to enjoy catching up, laughing, having a good time and pretending like things were normal…or that even in the Rebellion, that _they_ were normal, and not part of the _Ghost_ crew, wanted personally by Grand Admiral Thrawn. Somehow, though, they both agreed to a few hands of sabacc – which both of them were equally terrible at – and began to bet things they didn’t have. Stupidly, they were up against a couple Pathfinders, and with the alcohol warming their veins pleasantly, they went ahead and bet against the guys.

And lost. Terribly.

“Our game,” one said gruffly. “Now turn over your lightsaber.”

“Wait, what?” Ezra said, brain catching up way too slowly.

“You heard him,” said the other Pathfinder, nodding at his buddy. “Turn it over, Bridger.”

“Oh, sh – I can’t…I can’t do that…”

The men folded their arms and leaned back, waiting.

“Good game, though, good game.” Ezra reached out to shake their hands, but they simply looked down at his outstretched arm with disdain. “No?”

The first man held his palm out. “Lightsaber. _Now._ ”

“Always wanted one of those,” said the second. “What’s the first thing you’re gonna do with it, Murkov?”

“Gonna slice some fruit, then make arrows outta those krykna legs.”

“Please don’t hurt the spiders,” Ezra said. Both men raised a brow.

“Boy, are you handing it over, or do we gotta take it by force?”

“That’s actually a good pun – ”

“Time to go,” Sabine said, grabbing his arm and hauling him up.

“Wait, my drink!” He grabbed it as Sabine quickly retreated through the thick crowd toward the back exit, dragging him after her with the two Pathfinders shouting after them. She heard his laugh behind her and wondered just what, exactly, she’d gotten herself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to incorporate a girl hitting on Ezra and him being Totally Oblivious, but it didn’t work. Here’s the cut scene I was working on, though! 
> 
> \----
> 
> Ezra was chatting with some of the non-military base staff in a corner – probably about scoring extra gear or something – when someone shouted Sabine’s name.  
> “Hey, Wren. Wren!”  
> Sabine turned to find a female pilot standing at her side, a girl around her age named Evie. “Yeah?” she asked, taking a sip of her drink.  
> “Nice party,” Evie said.  
> “Thanks. It was mostly Raya.”  
> Evie nodded. “Question: does Bridger date?”  
> Sabine couldn’t help it; she literally spit her drink out, narrowly missing the lieutenant, who frowned at her. “Does he…does he _date_?”  
> The frown deepened. “I’m sorry, what part of that was unclear?”  
> “No, he…” Then she couldn’t help it again; she snorted a laugh. “No, Evie, he doesn’t _date_. We don’t have that kind of time.”  
> “ _We_ like you and him, or…?”  
> “The whole crew. We’re kind of busy. Maybe you starfighter jockeys have more downtime than us, but we don’t have much time for _dating_.”  
> Unsurprisingly, Ezra took that moment to utilize his uncanny skill for bad timing and wandered back over. “Hey, Evie,” he said.  
> “What are you doing tonight?” she asked boldly.  
> “This,” he replied, and Sabine rolled her eyes. To her credit, Evie didn’t.  
> “I mean _after_ this.”  
> “Sleeping?”  
> “You should come by the pilots’ lounge. It’ll just be me and a couple other people. Quiet. Or, um…where did they put you again? Were you guys assigned quarters on base?”  
> “Yeah, in the west wing,” Ezra replied. “They put me with Zeb, unfortunately. But mostly he stays on the ship.”  
> While Sabine wished he hadn’t said that – she’d spotted the pilot’s vector a kilometer away – still, this was interesting. She watched with bemusement as it unfolded before her.  
> Evie crossed her arms and smiled at him. “Maybe I could stop by. We could chat for a bit, get to know each other. You could show me your Jedi stuff.”  
> Sabine snorted so loud both of their heads snapped toward her. Evie glared before shoving a slip of flimsi at Ezra with her comlink frequency and storming away.  
> “Hey!” Ezra said. “What was _that_ all about?”  
>  _“Ezra,”_ Sabine said, chin trembling as she tried not to laugh. _“She wants to see your Jedi stuff.”_  
>  “So?” he fired back, a dirty scowl on his face. “She’s a nice person. You never want to see my Jedi stuff!”  
> “No, I most certainly do not. Do you…” She motioned with her hand, toward where Evie had exited. “…understand what that was all about?”  
> “Yeah, she’s interested in the Force.”  
> “Not _that_ Force. It was about…” She made the universal gesture with her hands, and Ezra made a face.  
> “No way,” he said. “Evie’s a nice person. She’s always been friendly.”  
> “So?” Sabine replied. “Nice, friendly people can’t try to get in other people’s pants?”  
> “She was not trying to…” He broke off and was quiet a moment. “Was she?”  
> Sabine sighed in frustration and slapped her forehead. “Yes, Ezra, she was. That was a blatant attempt to get you in bed.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday indeed...

The base was mostly dark with it being nighttime, but they could still hear the music blasting out from the conference room.

“In here!” Sabine found a small room (with no door) and pushed Ezra in. They crouched in the darkness, pressed closed together and watching as the Pathfinders searched them out. In truth, the men could have found them pretty easily – being Pathfinders and all – but they didn’t seem to be searching all that hard.

“Kriff this,” the first one said. “Let’s go back to the party. I didn’t want his lightsaber all that bad anyway.”

“I think she does, though,” the second replied wryly. “Probably why she ran off with him.”

The other guy snorted in amusement, and Sabine covered her mouth to keep her own laugh in. Ezra didn’t move, still staring at their pursuers.

“Your _lightsaber_ ,” she hissed, shaking with silent laughter.

“Please,” Ezra muttered. “You think I haven’t heard that before? It’s the oldest euphemism in the galaxy.”

“Besides ‘cave,’ maybe.”

“‘Cave’?” It took a moment for him to catch on. “Mm,” he said in understanding.

“You don’t find a lot of lightsabers in caves, though,” Sabine said as she peered out the doorway again to see if the coast was clear. “Against the rules.” She belatedly caught herself. Was she _flirting_ with him? The thought was horrifying.

“Very against the rules,” Ezra replied. “See anyone?”

“No,” she said, hating how warm her cheeks felt and how hard her breath was to catch. Probably the alcohol. Had to be. “So are you pretty committed to the celibacy thing or – ”

Just then, the sound of a group of running feet came to their ears, and Ezra pushed Sabine back against the wall to the side of the door and covered her body with his, getting them out of sight just in time. Not that they were doing anything untoward or against the Rebellion’s rules; they just simply _looked_ suspicious.

“Uh, no,” Ezra answered as he strained his neck to check out the door again. “Wasn’t planning on it. Why?”

She didn’t have her own answer for that – she didn’t know herself why she’d asked in the first place – so instead she shook her head, annoyed at herself, and held still, listening to the sound of feet receding and wondering why, exactly, they kept hiding in the dark like this. The Pathfinders already gave up minutes ago and likely really didn’t give much of a damn about the sabacc bet either way. Going back to the party was probably not an option, though, given that disastrous bet, but they could still turn in early or go for a walk outside. The music was still loud, thumping around them, and Sabine wondered if she should comm Raya and ask her to have it turned down. Then again, if she knew Raya, the woman had already tried.

Another couple moments of silence had passed when Sabine realized that Ezra wasn’t moving away, and what was more, neither was she. They were each focused on some distant point in space, close to one another, comfortable. Except his press against her was too close, intimate, not really that of a friend. She could feel his belt buckle against her abdomen, his holster, the heavy blaster he carried. He’d showered after his workout this morning, and she could smell that on him, the terrible generic soap and shampoo the base carried (that somehow didn’t smell as bad as she remembered now). When he breathed out against her, she felt his chest rise and fall, and she caught a faint whiff of the cheap alcohol. She was so aware of him right now – too aware, really, and when she looked up at him, she found his eyes on her.

“Did I thank you already?” he asked into the silence between them.

“Yes,” Sabine said. “A few times, actually. You’re very welcome.”

“That was really kind.” His gaze flicked microscopically down for a moment (to her lips, she wondered?)…and then back up. “Thank you.”

And then she sensed it: the shift in the air right between them. She knew exactly what this was. It was the charged electricity before the storm of a kiss. His mouth opened again as if he had more to say, but then he closed it, and he swallowed. He felt it, too, and he was nervous. Was he going to do it? Did she want it? Did she _want_ things to change between them like that? Because this wouldn’t be a kiss like the few boys at the Academy; with Ezra, it would be totally, completely different. It would be crossing a line of no return, even though it was something as small and seemingly inconsequential as a kiss.

She shouldn’t feel it. She _shouldn’t_ be feeling this.

His gaze was so intense. She couldn’t look away from his eyes. They were going to kiss. Finally, after all this time, it was going to happen. Her idle curiosity about what it would feel like, what his lips tasted like, would finally be satisfied, and she could stop wondering. She could touch him and see what his skin felt like, too. Feel the strength under it.

…except she couldn’t do it.

She _had_ to look away. She _had_ to stop it.

So she did. She _forced_ herself to break Ezra’s gaze, and she looked down at the floor and crossed her arms. Immediately the tension dissipated.

“Want to go for a walk?” she asked the floor.

“Sure,” Ezra replied, his voice getting stuck on the way out. He cleared his throat and took a step back from her. “Sure.”

And just to throw him off, to get things back on track –

“I have a Jedi question,” Sabine said.

Ezra frowned – obviously thrown like she’d hoped he would be. “Uh, okay. Now? Of…all times?”

Obviously it was a buzzkill for him, too.

Sabine nodded. “Yes. I was wondering…is ‘lightsaber practice’ _also_ a euphemism?”

“Euphemism for…?” Again, it took him a moment to catch her meaning, and then his eyebrows shot up. “ _Oh._ No, I mean, I don’t use it that way, but I guess it could…that’s actually pretty creative… I mean, when I say I’m going to practice with my lightsaber, I don’t mean…now you’re laughing again.”

“You guys just do an awful lot of – ” she hooked her fingers in the air “ – _lightsaber practice_ , and I know you in particular like to do it _alone_.”

Even in the dim light, she could see Ezra’s face burst into scarlet flames as he glared at her. “You are _foul_ ,” he said. “Can’t you take me seriously? Ever?”

Sabine shook her head as she smiled. _“No.”_

“One of the last remaining Jedi, and this is the treatment I get,” he said. “And on my birthday besides. You didn’t even get me a birthday present.”

True, she hadn’t. But she _had_ thrown him a party. “How do you know?” she shot back.

“Where is it, then?”

She shrugged. “Maybe you have to find it.”

His brows rose again. “Oh? Sounds intriguing.”

Sabine rolled her eyes. “Okay, look. Eighteen is a big deal. I get it. On most human worlds, you can adopt a child, vote, buy cigs, and you’re not considered jailbait anymore.”

“Very important,” Ezra said. “For all the older women interested in me.”

And around went her eyes again. “Right,” she muttered. “So how ’bout this: I will grant you one wish for your birthday.”

“One wish, huh? Anything I want?”

“Within reason. And legal.”

“Well, that takes a lot of the fun out of it.” He thought a minute. “Anything I want?”

Sabine eyed him. “Don’t push it.”

“Fine. I want the truth.”

For some reason, the words, the tone, the look on his face, made Sabine’s lips part as she sucked in a breath. The truth about… _what_ …?

“The truth?” she repeated numbly. “Not extra thermal detonators or painting Zeb’s fur tips green or recalibrating Chopper so he goes left when he means to go right?”

Ezra nodded, humor nowhere to be found on his face. “The truth.” He was so close again that all those scents wrapped around themselves in her brain again. She blinked a few times, trying to force herself to get control. “A couple minutes ago…”

Sabine waited, watching him with growing anxiety. It seemed he was gathering his courage. When he spoke, he didn’t hesitate.

“Did you want to kiss me?”

This time, her gasp was more audible. She felt cold all over. Had he _really_ asked her that? Her mind scrambled to come up with a response, working on overdrive.

“Do you have a backup wish?” she asked in a breathy voice, and she could’ve _kicked_ herself for the weakness she heard. _C’mon, Sabine!_

“Sabine…” he said quietly. She tried to back away, but only the cold wall of the base was behind her, a side table next to her, and there was nowhere else she could go. “Can you answer my question, please?”

Her vision tunneled. The room was dark, and the base was mostly dark, and she could see nothing but him and his intense gaze, waiting for her answer.

_Yes. The answer is yes._

_Lie. You have to lie. You_ have _to. He cannot know._

She barely understood herself how she was feeling these days. Things had changed so much between them, and she didn’t want to admit it. If she couldn’t admit it to herself, how the hell could she admit it to Ezra?

But she waited too long, and she saw the exact moment it was too long. Saw the muscles of his face constrict briefly in pain.

He looked away. Turned away.

Started to walk away.

“I would never ask you for anything,” he said, his voice even softer. “I just wanted to know. I thought I felt… It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry I asked. That was selfish of me.”

No. She couldn’t do this to him. Especially not on his birthday, which had been ruined so many times over. Her hand shot out to grab his, and he stopped.

“Ezra,” she said. He looked up, and after a brief hesitation, came back to her. She ran her thumb over the back of his hand, and he stepped closer to her once more. His skin was warm beneath her fingers. She’d never held his hand before, skin to skin like this.

“Yes,” she said. He smiled at her.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I just wanted to know. That’s all.”

He started to pull away, true to his word, but she didn’t let him go. Instead, she tugged gently on his hand, encouraging him to stay with her, to give her a second chance. Because what had she been thinking?

His chest slowly rose and fell as he took a deep breath, his gaze caught on hers. This time, she wasn’t going to look away. And she could tell, from the look in his eyes, from his stance, his posture, that he wasn’t, either. But he wasn’t quite taking that final step, crossing that final line. The kind thing would be for her to be the one to do it. He’d liked her for all these years, and doubtless he’d fantasized about the moment she returned his feelings and kissed him, or he kissed her. She could tell he wanted to do it. She could _feel_ his intent and desire, the air around them charged and electric. Even in the dim light she saw his face was flushed same as hers. They hadn’t drunk that much, just enough to warm their cheeks. He had to feel the heat between them, the spark of tension begging to be resolved. 

Sabine intertwined their fingers together, forced herself to relax a little, and gave him a smile. She wasn’t in any hurry, just letting the moment play out the way it would, knowing that now, its ending was absolutely inevitable. Ezra returned the smile again, his just as soft, and he moved closer, crowding her back against the wall even more so that her breath caught with his proximity. Her heart pounded, and her whole body felt hot and full of need.

Sabine reached up and put her arms around his neck. “Do you have another wish?” she asked.

Ezra had barely started to laugh, barely gotten his hands on her waist, when she pulled herself toward him and kissed him. His fingers tightened on her waist, digging in and tugging her hips to his as he kissed her back. She was surprised to realize that his lips were so… _soft_ …for someone who lived a rough life of war. He tasted faintly of the sharp, cheap alcohol still, his breath sweetened by the mixer in the drink. Sabine moved her hands down to grip the shoulders of his jacket, directing the kiss, and he let her, following her lead. His hands slid around to her lower back to hold her, pressing her flush against him, and she released her hold on his jacket so she could slide her hands along his back. Now she could feel his muscles move tantalizingly beneath her palms every time he shifted, and already she felt like she was hooked on his taste and the feel of him – not to mention the sound of him, too. He was quiet except for little gasps of air here and there, and the quietest of sighs into her mouth. They were sounds she had never heard from him, not that she would have ever had the opportunity to hear them in the past or coax them from him.

Sabine sagged back against the wall, allowing Ezra’s weight to hold her to it. One of his hands moved from her waist to thread up through her hair, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and held tight.

Then, in one of the boldest moves she’d ever seen from him in all the years she’d known him, without taking his lips from hers, he bent slightly, picked her up, and set her on top of the table next to them. Ezra stepped between her legs, and she pushed herself toward him, arms still around his neck and fingers gliding through his hair. His hands went back to her waist again, clenching, and they spasmed when she hooked her legs around his and pulled him even closer, bringing their bodies so tightly together, it bordered on uncomfortable – especially for him. He reacted with a short moan that she was surprised to hear him make, and he moved his hands to cup her face.

“Sabine,” he whispered as he kissed her, his voice tight and rough, close to being wrecked with desperation and need. “I want…I want _this_.”

She didn’t know how to reply – he was getting what he wanted, wasn’t he? – so she let the comment pass. She dragged her nails along his scalp and curled her fingers into his short hair, earning her a brief shudder from him – he liked it. Kissing him again, feeling her lips swollen from his, she whispered,

“Happy Birthday, Ezra Bridger.”

**\---**

When they returned to the _Ghost_ , the crew had left a couple wrapped presents for Ezra plus a note with a sentence from each of them.

_Happy Birthday. I’m proud of you. – Kanan_

_Happy Birthday, Ezra. Hope it’s wonderful. – Hera_

_Glad you’ve been gone all day. Best birthday present you could’ve given your long-suffering roommate. – Z_

_You made it around the sun again. Congratulations. – Chopper_

_You had a birthday? – AP-5_

Sabine smiled and set the note back on the table. “You can open your gifts in the morning.”

Ezra took her hands in his own. “I think my best gift is right here.”

She turned her head away, embarrassed, but smiled all the same. They headed toward the crew cabins, and at her door, they lingered awkwardly.

“That was probably the best birthday I’ve had,” Ezra said. “Though I don’t think I ever got to try your cake…”

Sabine shrugged. “Maybe next year.”

Ezra smiled. “I’ll hold you to that.” Then he hesitated, maybe thinking about kissing her again, but instead, squeezed her hand. “Goodnight, Sabine,” he murmured, and walked away, only letting go of her hand at the very last minute, when he had to. Sabine watched until he disappeared inside his cabin before turning into her own. Then she gathered up her night clothes and everything she needed to get ready for bed, and she tried not to think.

However, fifteen minutes later as she was crawling into bed, _not thinking_ was _not possible_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra and Sabine talk about the night before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end! Thank you SO MUCH for reading, commenting, and kudosing!! <3

Ezra found her the next afternoon, doing inventory of the Rebellion’s heavy explosives. They’d just gotten a big shipment in, and going through all of it was like opening presents on Lifeday for Sabine.

Plus, it was mindless work that took her mind off kissing Ezra last night, and it kept her out of sight.

Of course, he found her anyway.

“Hey,” he said quietly as he walked up, when she was deep in a review of thermal detonators. Out of her peripheral vision, she could see he had his hand on the back of his neck, his typical gesture for nervousness. She didn’t speak, finalizing the count in her mind, and he let her be. After she tapped the number into her datapad, he spoke again. “So…last night was nice.”

Sabine did not want to have this conversation. She’d known it was inevitable, but she’d hoped, _hoped_ , they could put it off for longer. As long as possible. Possibly forever. It _was_ nice, but… She wasn’t ready for this conversation. Really, really wasn’t. However, she’d known in the back of her mind that Ezra would want to have it, probably right away.

“Yeah, it was,” she replied, and chose to deliberately misunderstand. “We should get out more. Party more. Certainly drink more,” she muttered as she looked back at the datapad. She quickly deducted a healthy number of detonators, taking them out of inventory for herself.

“I didn’t mean the party.”

She knew he didn’t mean the party.

“Although that was nice, too,” he hurriedly added, always afraid he was going to offend. “Thank you for that – ”

“You already thanked me a million times, Ezra,” Sabine interrupted with a smile. She still wasn’t looking at him, though, not wanting to see the expression on his face. “It was my pleasure. I had fun doing it for you.”

“Hard to imagine you having fun doing something that doesn’t involve blowing something up.”

Sabine shrugged. “It happens, however rarely.”

Ezra didn’t speak again for another handful of heartbeats. Sabine’s heart pounded, wondering what he was going to say next. “Need any help?” he asked.

“Sure.” She pointed to a crate to their left. “I’m doing that one next.”

Ezra crouched down next to it, unlatched the lid, and started sifting through the contents. For a few minutes, they worked in – sort of – comfortable silence.

“I meant the kiss,” Ezra said into it, just when Sabine was relaxing and foolishly thinking he’d drop it. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to think about it; she’d fallen asleep thinking about it, she’d awoken thinking about it, she’d showered thinking about it, she’d inventoried thinking about it. It was just that she didn’t want to _talk_ about it, make a big _deal_ about it. She certainly didn’t want to address how it changed things between them, and how they were going to move forward from it.

“Yeah,” Sabine agreed quietly. “That _was_ nice.”

Ezra stood from the crate and turned to her. Now, she had no choice but to face him. Clutching the datapad to her chest as if it were an extension of her armor, Sabine looked up at him. His face was completely neutral.

“Can we talk about this, please?” he asked in an unsure voice that was clearly striving for calm. “I thought about it all night, this morning…”

Sabine nodded. “Me, too,” she admitted, her throat tightening up. She was afraid to say anything more, afraid to lead the conversation down any one path.

“I just thought, um.” He looked down and rubbed at a smudge on a crate with his thumb. “I mean, I wondered…”

He could be wondering any _number_ of things right now. Again, Sabine held her silence, even though this had to be incredibly difficult (and awkward, and painful) for him. Truthfully, she really didn’t know what she wanted, either, so it was easier to just let him talk and figure it out.

Too long of a stretch of silence later, Ezra breathed out a sigh and dropped his fidgeting hand. “Never mind,” he said. His voice was quiet, almost…defeated. He looked back up at her, and Sabine winced at the expression on his face. “I’ll see you around.”

“See you,” she said before she could stop herself. Gripping the datapad even harder, she watched him walk away, hating herself more and more with every step he took away from her.

\---

This time, Sabine sought him out. It was a good three hours after they’d last talked – “talked” – and Sabine had needed every one of those minutes to think. This was all so far outside of her realm, and she wasn’t really that comfortable with _any_ of it.

He was inventorying, too – busywork that he _hated_ – sitting in a chair next to crates of food packets with a datapad balanced on one knee. He must’ve asked for the work, probably to keep his own mind off things. His mind off _her_. Taking a deep breath, Sabine approached him.

“Hey,” she said. “Working hard or hardly working?”

It was a _horrible_ opener, a cheap joke she’d heard a long time ago and had punched someone in the face for. She winced to hear it come out of her own mouth. Ezra, however, didn’t react, other than to continue sorting and making notes on the datapad.

“Working. What do you need?” he asked coolly.

“Right. Well, I won’t take up too much of your time. Can we talk?”

His shoulders slumped ever so slightly. “About what, Sabine?” His voice carried a touch of tiredness, telling her he was still hurt from her stinging rejection, one she hadn’t even meant to give. She just hadn’t been ready to talk – she needed things done on her _own_ terms – and she’d locked up and not known how to reply or respond. But she was here now, she knew what to say (sort of) and what she wanted, so she was just going to boldly walk into it like she did with every situation (minus the bad opener).

“I’m sorry about earlier,” she said. “It wasn’t a rejection. I just felt ambushed.”

“I can understand that.”

“I know that’s not what you were doing. I mean, I expected you to do it. I just hadn’t had enough time to think.”

“Okay.”

That was the easy part. Now she had to get to the difficult part, the one that made her heart thud. Things were going to change now, after this. Maybe she’d scared him off, hurt him too deeply for him to come back around. Maybe her apology was okay, but things were forever changed between them, even if they tried to pretend the kiss never happened. But…

 _Sabine, I want…I want_ this _._

That voice…his tone…how _badly_ he wanted it…

If they did move forward with a relationship, that would be the most difficult, for a whole host of reasons.

Or would it?

“You said you were thinking something,” she said. “Wondering something.”

He was in control of the conversation now, to move it ahead or keep it right where it was.

“It’s not important,” he replied, and she found herself stung by his response – which only confirmed for her what it was that _she_ wanted, too. She _did_ want to move things forward. That was why she had kissed him back.

Ezra continued going through the crate and noting numbers on his datapad. He hadn’t stopped since she’d walked up. “It’s not a big deal,” he continued. “Just forget about it. I know you don’t like people making a big deal out of things.”

He knew her too well. _Far_ too well. Maybe – just maybe – that was why this relationship could work. If they could both just _get_ there. Get over what was hanging them both up and get to a place where they could start trying.

“I think it is important,” Sabine said evenly, attempting to reassure him.

Finally, his movements stopped, and he crossed his arms over his abdomen and hunched forward. He hadn’t yet made eye contact with her this whole time.

“I just wondered,” he said, “if you wanted to change things. If the kiss meant anything, I guess.”

“Yes. It did.”

“So do you?” He still spoke to the ground. She had never seen him more unsure, so lacking in confidence. “Want to change things?”

“Maybe if you talk to me like the man I know you are, instead of proposing a relationship to the _duracrete_.”

Ezra looked up at her then, and he had a slight smile on his face. His body unfolded, and he stood, the datapad on his knee clattering away to the ground as he drew himself up to his full height. Yes, she realized, he had absolutely transformed before her eyes. So, so much.

And she liked it very, very much.

But she had also made him suffer enough, and she wasn’t – for now, at least – going to put him through any more. He reached out to her, and she took his hand and let him pull her close. He leaned down, and she started to stretch up to him, but hesitated.

“Just…let’s try to keep things private, okay?” she asked. “We don’t need to broadcast this to the entire Rebellion. I’m a pretty private person.”

“Yeah, sure, no problem,” he said. “Whatever you want.”

“You’d better get used to saying that.”

He smiled again, and she let him kiss her briefly. Just as he was about to do it again, whistles erupted from behind her.

 _“Yeah!”_ shouted one of the Pathfinders from the party. _“Woo! Get it, Bridger!”_

Sabine pulled away, scowled, and punched Ezra in the shoulder as if he’d been responsible for it. By the time she turned around, the Pathfinders were gone, though she could still hear them guffawing to themselves.

“Well,” Ezra said as he peered out from behind the stacks of crates, “I suppose they’ll do the telling for us.”

“On the bright side,” Sabine added as a thought occurred to her, “we could always team up for pranks if we’re going to be a couple.”

“You’d actually _team up_ with me for pranks? On a regular basis?”

Sabine retreated deeper to the cover of the crates and crossed her arms. “Oh, I wouldn’t say a _regular_ basis. No need to change things _that_ much.”

Ezra likewise crossed his arms. “So I can still prank you.”

She raised her eyebrows. “On the contrary. That would be very unwise.”

“And why so?”

“Because women – especially Mandalorian women – hold all the power in relationships. You prank me and I don’t like it, you don’t get kissed.” She deliberately swept her eyes up and down him. “Or anything else.”

He didn’t take the bait, but he _did_ redden a bit. “I see. You know I was on my own half my life before you guys found me, right? A few more days won’t kill me. I can take care of myself.”

Sabine didn’t think he meant it the way it came across, but she couldn’t help but latch onto his words. “Lightsaber practice?” she asked innocently.

Ezra groaned. “Oh, for _Force’s_ … _No_ , that’s not what I meant.” Still, it flustered him enough that he turned away and gestured to the crates. “Look, I still have to finish my shift. I’ve got all this crap to inventory. Where the hell is my datapad?” Sabine nudged it over to him with the toe of her boot, and he scooped it up. _“Thank you.”_ He sat down hard in his chair and looked up at her with a scowl. “Don’t you have someplace else to be?”

“Plenty of other places,” she said. “Happy to go, since you’ve gotten so salty. I don’t need your mood. Mother always told me never to date younger men. Of course, my dad is younger, but that’s a control thing.”

Ezra growled this time and started stabbing his finger at the datapad. “Is this what it’s going to be like?” he asked, staring at the device. “You’re _worse_ if we date?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Sabine said, and then motioned up and down her body. “You wanted this for three years. Now you’ve got it. You deal with the consequences.”

He looked up at her with somewhat of an unsure expression, like he really was not all that sure of what he’d gotten himself into. “Regarding the withholding…”

“You know, I have work to do around here, too,” Sabine said, turning on her heel. But Ezra had always been fast, and he shot up from the chair and grabbed her wrist, pulling her back to him. Again, his boldness surprised her, but she didn’t object. Their location was pretty private, all things considered, and she vowed to figure out how those two nosy Pathfinders had found them out. When Sabine spun around again, she was, once more, back in his arms. She smiled and put her hands tentatively on his shoulders. She’d never had a real, actual boyfriend before – a couple flings at the Academy, of course – but an official relationship was not something she’d been through. And Ezra Bridger was the exact _last_ person she expected it to be with.

Or, that would’ve been her thought years ago. Now, though, it actually seemed quite natural, and while she was still really hesitant about the idea, she found herself warming up to it more and more – and actually even enjoying it.

On some planets, it was customary to give others presents on your birthday. Sabine usually thought that was a stupid idea, but as Ezra tightened his arms around her and kissed her again, she thought they’d each given each other a pretty good one for his birthday, and that even though it wasn’t hers, it had been the best birthday she’d ever experienced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm @lothcatlovesysalamir on tumblr!


End file.
